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Christine Wells
I wrote my first book at the age of ten. It was a picture
book about aliens, which were the only creatures I could draw.
Many years later, after completing school, a Bachelor of
Laws and a few years in a legal firm, the writing bug bit
again. Not a picture book this time, but a crime thriller
set in a legal firm not unlike the one where I worked. With
characters not unlike the people I encountered every day.
Wisdom being the better part of valor, and multiple
defamation suits a very real concern, I didn't pursue that
work further than the first few chapters. Regrettably, the
fictional murder of ... (well, I'd better not say) remains
unsolved to this day.
I then turned my thoughts to stories that were less likely
to result in a garnishee over my wages for many years to
come. My first love, Regency historicals.
More time passed in fevered scribbling before my
long-suffering husband suggested I might consider giving up
work and writing full-time. Angels broke out in a chorus,
manna dropped from Heaven and I remembered why I had married
this absolute gem of a man in the first place. Still, it
took many months before I gathered the courage to take the
plunge. I free-fell into the vast void of structureless
days, where tailored suits and stockings were no longer
required dress and the only rule of thumb was to be out of
my pyjamas by 10am.
Four years and two children later, I still live by that rule.
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